The Lands of the East
by aldeanna
Summary: Ecthelion, son of Ecthor, is a young Dúnedain warrior who joins an expedition to the eastern lands of Arda in the hopes of winning fame and glory for the West. This is a lost tale taking place in the reign of King Eldarion after the War of the Ring.
1. Epilogue

_This is my first Middle Earth fan fiction story. The events in this story take place after the War of the Ring and the passing of King Elessar, so if there is ever a "Book of Lost Tales" category, this piece would probably fall under it. Please follow this story or leave a review if you would like to see more._

 **000**

 **Chapter 1: Epilogue**

East of Lake Rhûn, the lands were inhabited by the Avari who dwelt alone since the First Age. Believed to have descended from elven ancestors who fled the stronghold of Angmar and the iron fist of Morgoth, they found no solace from fear in the forest of Doriath nor the stronghold of Gondolin. They sought to put themselves forever out of the reach of the Evil One for the survival of their race should Eriador fall and the Eldar be driven back to Valinor.

For this, they were called cowards by the West and the Eldar, losing all contact with their kindred as they fled East. In the West, it was said they perished in the harsh lands of the North or by the savagery of the wild strange beasts who roamed there. Few histories were written of the lands east of Rhûn, which were as mysterious as the Haradrim who dwelt east of Mordor, whose alliances and barbarity were known to Men and Elves in the great War of the Ring.

Yet after the passing of the Elves and the rise of the Golden Age of Men, begun by King Elessar and his sons, the stewardship of Arda became the charge of mortals. They tore down the towers of Sauron and his strongholds in Moria. They built tributes to the heroes in the War of the Ring. The Dúnedain restored all the ruins of old in the North and restored peace among the hobbits and dwarves in Eriador.

Though many mortals tried to preserve the beauty and memory of the Eldar and the Istari, the stories were fading into legends and the legends became bound in the history books, slipping into affectionate remembrance, for now was the Age of Man.

The Haradrim made a pact of peace and friendship for a hundred years with Minas Tirith and a Council of Kings was formed. The lords of Gondor, Arnor, Rohan, and Harad took bread and meat together, swearing to watch over the welfare of Arda. The hobbits and dwarves took little interest in the politics of men, choosing not to share in the ambitions of the Council in exchange for the pursuit of their own affairs in peace.

In the following years, the Lord of the West learned from the Lords of the East that Arda's lands stretched farther than any could imagine. The Haradrim had strange dealings with the peoples of the East, who lived in seemingly mythological jungles of the South and the grasslands of Lochland. There was even tale of a race of a fair-haired people who lived in the forests of Dorwinion, practising the lesser powers of the Noldor from the time of Westernesse and Fingolfin.

The curiosity of King Eldarion grew and the desire to set out for the East was strong among the Men of the West. The Haradrim were content only to share these secrets, but took no interest in venturing further than their own lands, save for trade and barter. So here begins our tale.

 **000**

Ecthelion, son of Ecthor, stared out at the Valley of Dale from the crest of a grassy knoll. He could see the sunrise peeking out from behind the roots of the mountainside as the clouds blushed deep rose in the lightening sky.

His Dúnedain brothers, fast asleep in one of the town's inns, would soon wake and wonder where he had gone, but for now, all was serenity. He could see the farmers herding their livestock into the green fields and smoke rumbling from vents in the mountainside as the dwarves began their day's toil at the furnaces beneath the earth, but the town was not yet stirring below.

How could anyone sleep when so much beauty lay here? Ecthelion, or Thel as his brothers called him, gazed up wistfully away from the town and squinted east into the distance beyond Dale and beyond the Lonely Mountain. He thought he could make out the Iron Hills, where the the dwarven lord Thorin Stonehelm dwelt. He turned his gazed to the south and there, he saw the Long Lake and Esgaroth with its brass towers gleaming like jewels in the new day's light.

Where would the day take them? Would they follow the River Celduin down to the legendary Lake of Rhûn and there pass beyond the borders of Middle Earth? Or would they pass north into the Withered Heath and towards Ered Mithrin, beyond to Forodwaith, and explore the lands of the north? All roads led East from here for King Eldarion had entrusted the Dúnedain, the Rangers of the North, to go forth and meet all peoples, bringing them the greetings of the West.

His father had been loath to give up his youngest son Thel to the Rangers of the North, but he saw the wandering streak in his son's blood from childhood and knew he could offer Thel no future so long as his elder brother Echoriad lived. So Ecthor blessed his son and bade him consecrate himself to the service of King Eldarion, high ruler of Gondor and Arnor.

Thel swore fealty and joined the Rangers of Rhovanion, helping to root out all traces of the Evil One in Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains. Though the Wood Elves had long departed, he had found the old tales of Ecthelion, his namesake, in the empty halls of the bygone king of the Woodland Realm. For now that the Elves had departed for Valinor, the Men of the West saw fit to preserve their memory in the names of their children.

Thel remembered the day the King's Order had arrived. An eagle had dropped the parchment in his lap while he was sitting in the Gladden Fields, fletching some arrows. He had run as fast as his legs would carry him to the Old Ford, where he delivered the paper to the chief among his ranger brothers, Arador.

While Arador appeared lukewarm to the King's demand, he consented to send three Dúnedain to wander the lands of the East and return in a year's time in the month of Narvinyë to report on their findings. From among his fellow brothers, Arador had chosen Thel for his learning, Finarfin (or Fin) for his martial skill, and Galdor for his knowledge of the stars to ensure the success of the quest. They were instructed to set out from Dale and the Lonely Mountain so as to be well-provisioned and prepared for their long journey.

Thel could hardly believe it. He would be going where no ranger had been before, charting unknown lands and strange cities. He would have so many tales to tell his family upon his return. Mayhap he would return with glorious titles and gifts conferred by the eastern peoples, though a part of him feared the dangers of outlandish beasts such as the oliphants of the Haradrim or an encounter with some far-off shadowy remnant of Sauron's power. Even so, the wanderer's itch was strong in his veins as he stared at the eastern horizon.

The feeling of excitement suddenly overwhelmed all his sense and he broke into a fierce run down the side of the hill. He hurtled towards that horizon on quickening feet, his heart brimming with longing and adventure.

 **000**

 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. The King's Companions

_Apologies for the delay – had a hard time finding time to write this week. I've always wanted to tell the story of what happened to Middle Earth after the War of the Ring. Thank you to Trich and LadyofAnfalas for providing feedback so far. Enjoy!_

 **000**

 **Chapter 2: The King's Companions**

Thel raced through the sleepy town, almost knocking over the market carts and dodging waterfalls of dirty tub water thrown from several stories above him. He could barely contain his excitement, hoping to burst in on his sleeping Ranger brothers and hustle them out the door before they would know what was happening.

He rounded a corner off the main street and hopped himself to a halt in front of The Red Dragon Inn. Pushing his way through the door, he rushed past a retinue of dwarves who were hustling their possessions together, clearly on their return to the Iron Hills after a profitable trade mission with their brothers under the Mountain.

Clambering up the stairs to the third floor where their rooms were located, he paused for a moment outside the door to see if he could hear any sounds of movement. Hearing none, he threw open the door and bellowed "Galdor" and "Fin" in the most rousing manner he could muster.

When no reply came, he passed his gaze over the chamber and found the beds to be empty and already made up. Heaving a sigh of disappointment, he closed the door and ambled back down the stairs.

He found his brothers sitting in the common room, taking their breakfast. To his surprise, he saw they were not alone at the table.

Two dark-haired young women were seated across from them, clothed in ranger garb. One was clearly older than the other by two or three years, her hair drawn back in a single braid that fell over one shoulder across her forest green cloak. Her narrow face was tanned, her dark eyes sharp, her mouth seemed fixed in a permanent frown. The younger woman was smaller and paler with a cherub-like face and button nose peeping above a long, earth-brown scarf over her drab, grey cloak. She was listening intently, her big blue eyes unblinking, as her companion spoke to his brothers, nodding every now and again in agreement.

"Ho my brothers, good morning!" called Thel, as he drew up to the table.

Then turning to the ladies, he made an exaggerated bow and said, " _Mae govannen_ ," in the old tongue.

The sharp-faced woman gave him a wary look before extending her hand in greeting.

" _Mae l'ovannen_ ," she replied. "You must be Ecthelion, son of Ecthor of Minas Tirith. Your brothers have just told me about you. I am Gilraen and this is my sister, Celebrian."

The small woman beside her smiled up at Thel at the introduction, but did not speak.

"We have come with swift purpose from the Council of Kings to bring tidings," continued Gilraen. "As you know, the High King of Gondor and Arnor Eldarion, Elessar's son, has charged several expeditions into the East to root out all traces of the shadow of Sauron and bring greetings of friendship to the peoples who dwell there."

"We are aware, milady," said Galdor, nodding his sage, grizzled head. "We have been chosen by Arador, son of Arathant, Chieftain of the Rangers of Rhovanion, to pursue this honourable mission. We had planned to set out from here and head East, but we were given no further instruction whither to wend our journey."

"I see it was well met to you and your brothers here and not in the Northern wastelands," mused Gilraen, a wan smile playing on her lips. "It is a desire close to the heart of the King that we go a little further south from here. We must find the shores of the fabled Lake Rhûn and make contact with the Men of Dorwinion."

"The wine merchants?" asked Fin, brushing his stray chestnut curls out of his eyes.

"What do you mean by 'we'?" interjected Thel.

There was a small giggle from Celebrian, but it was soon quieted with a dour "ahem" from her sister. Gilraen then straightened herself and directed her reply to Finarfin, as if Thel had not spoken at all.

"Yes, we've not had any contact with the Dorwins since the War of the Ring," she replied gravely. "We fear they were either wiped out by Sauron's armies or they've found other trading partners. Either way, we must find out what happened to them."

"And as for your question, young master," she said, turning sharply towards Thel. "Yes, we are coming with you. We have our orders from the King."

"But it's going to be dangerous," sputtered Thel, looking helplessly at his brothers in search of support. "You're not exactly warrior material, miladies."

Gilraen looked as if she was ready to knife Thel on the spot, but Celebrian put a hand on her sister's arm before she could speak.

"Times have changed," the younger woman responded quietly. "Have you forgotten the deeds of the Lady Éowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, who defeated the terrible Witch King of Angmar on the Fields of Pelennor? We may not look like warriors to you, but I assure you not 'all that is gold does not glitter'. We can take care of ourselves and we shall prove our worth ere the journey ends, dear sirs."

Thel threw another helpless look at Galdor and Fin. Fin averted his gaze and buried his nose in his mug of ale. Galdor kept puffing quietly away at his pipe, but he put it down deliberately after Celebrian had finished speaking.

"I apologize for my young brother's rash questions," he said gruffly, brushing the tobacco ash out of his brown beard. "We are pleased to have your company, your ladyships. No doubt we will have much to learn from you on our expedition."

Before Thel could brook any opposition, Galdor rose and silenced him with a stern look.

"If you'll excuse me, miladies," he said, nodding to the two women. "I must go out and acquire some horses and provisions for our long journey. _N'i lû tôl_."

 **000**

Galdor had an eye for horses and found the perfect gelding for Thel. He was a seven-year-old bay horse with a coat of burnished copper, a neatly combed mane and stockings of jet black. The beast seemed to have a level of alertness bordering curiosity in his wide eyes. His name was Folca and he looked a hunter born.

The beast was almost as old as Thel in horse years. While most of his Dúnedain brothers were much older than he, Thel was only 22 years old when he had pledged his allegiance to the Rangers of Rhovanion. He was the youngest of the group at the time and Arador had many misgivings about sending an inexperienced "child" into the wilds of the East.

What Thel lacked in experience, he made up for with his knowledge of history and lore. As a boy, his father had enrolled him under the tutelage of Barahir, son of Elboron and Keeper of the Library of the White Tower. He spent hours studying old maps, reading the ancient scrolls, and learning the strange tongues of Men, Elves and Dwarves. He could even speak and understand a few words of Harad if the occasion called for it, which it often did when his father had dealings with the Southrons.

Finarfin was the second oldest companion in their retinue. He was in his 60s, though he hardly looked a day over 30. He hailed from Esgaroth, though his father had been a Guard of the Citadel in the service of King Elessar Telcontar. In his youth, he had fallen in love with a maid travelling with her merchant father from Laketown and eloped with her to the Drimrill Dale, deserting his duties to his father. Their happiness was sweet, but short-lived. A remnant band of orcs found their tiny cottage while Fin was away hunting and burned it to the ground. Mad with grief and unable to face his shame back in Minas Tirith, Fin joined the Rangers of Rhovanion and drew some small measure of vengeance over his wife's untimely death by rooting out bands of orcs hidden in the Misty Mountains.

Their self-appointed leader Galdor was a seasoned ranger at the age of 105. He was an austere man who preferred keeping his thoughts and pipe tobacco to himself. His nomadic life as a ranger was preceded by many years as a sailor, coasting the shores of South Gondor, Umbar, Belfalas and even near Andrast. While Galdor loved the starlight, he found the company of his fellow sailors too coarse, so he took his wages and went in search of his Dúnedain kin. The stars were just as bright on land and, for as long as he could see them, Galder would never lose his way in the vast expanses of Middle Earth.

Thel jolted from his private thoughts about his companions to see Gilraen and Celebrian trot quickly past him on their palomino mares along the busy street towards the gates of Dale. The young ranger had no idea what to make of these two new companions with their fancy orders from the High King. When he had tried to ask Galdor privately about their family names and lineage, the old ranger had burst out laughing and continued to saddle their horses in silence. This was far from helpful. Thel wondered how it was Gilraen and Celebrian had the ear of the Council of Kings.

Based on their names alone, Thel knew they were Dúnedain from one of the royal houses of Gondor. From the history books, he knew Gilraen had been the mother of King Elessar Telcontar and Celebrian, the wife of Elrond Half-elven and the mother of Queen Arwen Undómiel. The names had become popular in the decades after the War of the Ring among Gondor's oldest families.

Still, it was unusual even in those days for high-born ladies to join the Rangers of the North. Most chose to marry high-born lords or join the Shieldmaidens of Rohan or take on stewardship of their father's house or lands. Wealthy widows often assumed or bought positions of authority, some even ascending to the ranks of King's Advisors. It was the first time Thel had ever seen a lady ranger, nay two lady rangers, this far north of Gondor.

"Thel, are you alright?" he heard a voice beside him disturb his thoughts.

He looked over and Fin was riding beside him on a chestnut gelding, his eyebrow arched.

"Oh, I'm fine," mumbled Thel, digging his heels lightly into his bay horse to spur him forward. "I was just lost in my thoughts again."

"I've tried to get your attention three times already," sighed Fin. "What on earth are you thinking about?"

"Just about those sisters riding with us, brother," replied Thel. "Do you know who they are?"

"Not a clue," said Fin, scratching his forehead absently. "I don't ask questions where the Kings are involved. I just follow orders."

"Agreed, brother."

They spurred their horses to catch up with the three riders ahead of them, already tearing out of the town gates.

 **000**

 _Thanks for reading!_


End file.
